


High Rise

by Petronia



Series: Traffic [3]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Angst, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-13
Updated: 2005-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-05 21:14:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petronia/pseuds/Petronia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takaba and Feilong, Hong Kong arc. Say what you want, but Rapunzel never had to weather a typhoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High Rise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quixotic_sense](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=quixotic_sense).



Fei Long lived like a fairy tale princess, at the top of a tower so high it rose above the smog and humidity of the city, and when you gazed out the window you could see the curve of the horizon beyond the Bay. But he could come and go freely; Takaba was the one reduced to fantasizing about tearing up the bed sheets and tying the strips together for rope.

He thought he might be going crazy from being shut-in, the lack of a camera in his pocket, and a routine of sex, unidentifiable drugs and the omnipresent threat of violent death. It didn't even worry him anymore. He had catching up to do on the insanity front.

 

***

 

Ten days not-entirely spent in bed with Fei Long and he'd learnt more tips on how to take Asami down (personally and professionally) than he had in ten months of investigating Asami in Tokyo. He'd laugh at the irony if he could, or cry.

Mostly he was too busy screaming his orgasm into the pillow to do either.

He _really_ wished he had a camera. The look on Fei Long's face when he came inside Takaba, late at night for the last time, with his eyes closed and lips parted a little—

The day after the night he caught himself thinking this he tried to run, and actually got as far as the parking lot before they caught up with him. When he woke he was locked in the same white-walled room as before, only stripped of everything he could conceivably use to hit a guard over the head, including the chest of drawers.

 

***

 

He didn't know precisely what had happened between Fei Long and Asami, but at this point he doubted the truth could faze him. Also he didn't care.

Didn't really care, anyway.

It came down to this: Fei Long expected Asami to come and rescue Takaba. He thought it would hurt - hurt! - Asami if anything happened to Takaba. And more than anything else in the world, Fei Long wanted to be _able_ to hurt Asami.

Takaba almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

He didn't think Asami would come to rescue him. He wasn't—

Asami wouldn't come for him. It would be a stupid thing to do.

If Asami didn't come for him, Fei Long would have no reason to keep him alive.

Ergo, he had to get out.

 

***

 

The night of the day he tried to run a typhoon hit Hong Kong. The glass muffled the screaming of the storm to a dull roar, but it was like being underwater, impossible even to see the sky. The building literally swayed in the wind, and though he knew it was useless he squeezed his eyes shut and wished it would topple.

When you were terrified for long enough the feeling spread through your body like cheap sake, all the way down to your fingertips, and then you stopped shaking.

It was past two in the morning when Fei Long came to visit. He didn't seem inclined to put a bullet in the back of Takaba's head, or to torture him until he passed out. He ran a finger down Takaba's throat and asked sweetly, "Do you miss him that much?"

(If he managed to extricate himself from the mafia's clutches he _might_ go on to a stellar career in photojournalism, rich in awards and rife with incident, but he would probably never meet anyone crazier than Fei Long.)

Fei Long kept his eyes open when they kissed, watching Takaba's reaction. He undressed Takaba and took him slowly - almost gently - the way he sometimes did when he wanted, as if he were excavating Takaba layer by layer. As if there were secrets buried inside Takaba, and he wanted to lay every single one bare. Truth be told he knew just as well as Asami how to make Takaba beg for it; the difference was he never let Takaba forget he was begging.

When Takaba was panting and pressing back against his touch Fei Long said, demonstrating as he did, "Did Asami ever do _this_ to you?"

"If you care so much why don't you sleep with him yourself!"

He didn't even know why he said it. It just felt like something breaking. The next thing he knew Fei Long had shoved him onto his knees and was taking him hard, twisting his elbows behind his back, and he nearly did pass out with how much it hurt and felt good at once.

At some point the ceiling lights went out; he wasn't sure when it happened.

 

***

 

He woke some time later, face down in the pillow and only half under the covers. The sheets still bore Fei Long's scent, like a fragrance.

(He'd be working an embassy reception and catch a whiff of Dunhills or a specific, unnameable cologne as someone brushed past, and his heart would stutter to a halt in his chest before his mind said _no, not him._ Try to conjure the exact scent from memory and he'd be half hard before he knew it. Fei Long didn't affect him in nearly that way. _He_ was merely the nicest-smelling human being Takaba had ever encountered, including girls.

There was something really wrong about that.)

After a while he turned his head, sleepily, and realised Fei Long was still there.

He was leaning against the floor-to-ceiling window, one hand pressed flat against the glass, staring out. His hair was loose, silk robe only casually fastened and half sliding down his shoulders. The lights were still off. The only illumination came from the storm without: a wavering gloom like an underwater grotto.

Takaba imagined a camera. Dim, too dim to be any good without a tripod, but Fei Long wasn't moving anyway. He focussed the nonexistent lens on the gunshot scar on Fei Long's chest. He knew it was there, but in the near-total obscurity it was impossible to see.

Fei Long had said it was Asami who'd given him that scar. Takaba found himself wondering why Asami didn't finish the job he started, but it was the sort of question you couldn't very well ask. Fei Long would probably take it the wrong way.

"Why are you still here?" he finally asked. Fei Long's gaze slid toward his face, then away to the glass again.

"There's a problem with the backup generator," he said. "The elevators aren't working."

Takaba thought about this.

"You should complain to the management," he said.

"I _am_ the management," said Fei Long.

"Oh."

Fei Long turned. For a few seconds he merely gazed at Takaba consideringly. Then he approached the bed, letting the robe slide to the floor as he did so. Takaba scrambled to a sitting position, alarmed. When Fei Long lay down on the other side of the bed and commandeered half the covers it took him a few seconds to parse what had happened.

"You're not actually going to sleep _here?_"

"This entire building is my property," said Fei Long, "and a word from me could have you killed."

Then he closed his eyes and didn't say anything else.

Takaba sat with his back against the headboard, hugging his knees. After what seemed like a very long time had passed he said, half-aloud, "I _don't_ miss him."

It wasn't entirely silent. Rain drummed against the glass wall, and beneath it he could hear the rhythmic rise and fall of Fei Long's breathing.

"The first time I met him he tried to have his goons beat me up. The second time around he tied me up and raped me. It wasn't the greatest first impression, okay? I don't trust him any further than I can kick him, and I don't want to owe him for anything."

He propped his chin on his knees.

"It's unfair. One of these days I'm going to find him out and take him down. If it weren't for that—"

"Takaba-kun," Fei Long said, his voice low and husky, "shut up. Or I really will have to kill you."

Takaba blinked. He opened his mouth to say something, but on second thought closed it again. Eventually he scooted over to the far edge of the bed and curled up under the only available corner of the covers. Luckily the room was warm.

He had to get out, he thought vaguely, and fell asleep.


End file.
